


The Burning Wait

by pippen2112



Series: Back on Our Bullshit - A Critical Role Modern AU [8]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Bondage, Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Consensual Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom Caleb Widogast, Dom/sub Play, Edging, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Filming, Gags, Humiliation, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Predominately Fjord/Caleb, Sub Fjord (Critical Role)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 18:27:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20158081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippen2112/pseuds/pippen2112
Summary: Fjord and Caleb make Molly a birthday present.





	The Burning Wait

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am, back on my bullshit XD. This series and it's continued existence is dedicated to the lovely folks on the CritGoals and Widofjord Discord. 
> 
> This fic reads as a stand alone, but reading the others in the series will help you understand the relationship at play here. This story could probably take place at any point in the chronology, but most likely takes place after the events of "Stretch."

Fjord slumps low in his worn-out desk chair, squirming into a more comfortable position, his fingers twitching as Caleb carefully tightens familiar ropes around his wrists. A shiver runs down his spine, and Fjord has to tense his legs to stop himself from clamping them closed around his naked groin. Fuck, it’s a trip, exposing himself so thoroughly, slowly giving up his ability to hide. He digs his toes into the bedroom carpet, grounding himself with the well-known texture. _It’s gonna be fun,_ he tells himself. _The kind of fun that makes you turn ten shades of red and wish the floor would swallow you out of the universe for a while, but fun nonetheless. _

As Caleb knots the ropes, he presses a kiss to the inside of Fjord’s elbow, and Fjord nearly jumps out of his skin at the sudden action. “Alright, _Bärchen_?” Caleb asks, frowning.

Fjord huffs out a laugh, idly pulling at the bindings around his wrists. The ropes strain against him but hold true, and his dick throbs between his thighs, impatient to get the show on the road. “Peachy keen,” he says over his shoulder. “Just, y’know, a little nervous.” He eyes the camera set up across the room. “A lot nervous.”

“You have nothing to worry about, Fjord,” Caleb says, taking another coil of rope in hand as he taps Fjord’s ankles. “Feet back for me.” Fjord swings his legs under the chair and Caleb winds the rope around one ankle then the other. “No matter how it turns out, Mollymauk will enjoy our gift, but he will enjoy it more knowing you’ve enjoyed yourself. So take a deep breath. Relax for me. I will make you feel as good as you look.”

As Caleb steps between his spread legs and keeps working—carefully looping rope around his left knee, threading it behind his back, and tethering it to his right knee—Fjord blushes and glances down at his naked body, his hard-won physique. Objectively, he knows he looks good, but deep down he still feels like a chubby, orphaned half-orc pup. But before his mind can run too far from him, Caleb nuzzles his bearded cheek against Fjord’s thigh, the sensation skittering up his spine and lighting up his nerves. Gasping, Fjord looks down. 

Caleb gazes up at him, focus tight around his bright blue eyes, the corner of his mouth quirked into a grin. He kisses Fjord’s thigh, sucking a mark into the skin. “Almost ready,” Caleb murmurs as he tests the bindings one last time. “Color, _Bärchen_?”

“Green,” he whispers, his eyes fluttering closed as the sensation of ropes against his skin drags him down into his headspace. “Ready when you are, sir.”

“Good boy.” Caleb stands slowly and moves back behind Fjord, rummaging for something. “Would you prefer a blindfold or a gag?”

He sucks in a sharp breath, his blood thrumming with arousal. On the one hand, with a blindfold he won’t be able to anticipate Caleb’s movements, won’t be able to prepare himself for each new assault, won't have to acknowledge the camera. On the other hand… His gaze drifts to the tripod set up a few feet away, to the red light on the camera, and his breath sticks in his chest. On the other hand, this video is a birthday gift for Molly… and Molly has _a thing_ about eye-contact. Likes it when he gets to hold his partner’s gaze as he makes them come. 

Chin tucked to his chest, Fjord answers, “Gag, please.”

“Of course, _Bärchen_. When you ask so prettily, how can I deny you?” Caleb carefully swivels the chair a quarter turn, then step back in front of Fjord, a heavy black muzzle gag in his hands, the pecker insert of modest size. Fjord has to snap his jaw closed to stop himself from drooling before they even begin. 

With gentle, meticulous fingers, Caleb presses the gag into Fjord’s mouth and deftly buckles it tight at the back of his head and under his chin. The insert lies heavily on Fjord's tongue, giving just slightly when he sucks. Fjord rolls his neck and shakes his head; when the gag doesn’t budge, he sighs and slips a little lower.

Caleb cups his cheek, thumb brushing against the seam between the leather and Fjord’s skin. “Gods, you are a vision now. Just imagine how you’ll look when you’re teetering on the edge of orgasm, flushed and drooling and begging for more.”

Cheeks warming, Fjord nuzzles into Caleb’s hand, enjoying the comfort. Caleb indulges him for a while, his free hand working into Fjord’s hair. “We’ll use hums to check in. Let’s see, for “yes” or green, you’ll hum a single note. Show me.”

Fjord hums once, his lips vibrating against the gag, tickling slightly.

“Good. For yellow, you’ll hum the start of Hot Cross Buns.”

Bobbing his head, Fjord hums the tune.

“And for red, Happy Birthday.”

Once more, he demonstrates.

Caleb runs his hand through Fjord’s hair, tugging gently as he tips Fjord up to look at him. “Very good, _Bärchen_. Remember, if you follow my orders and behave, you will be rewarded handsomely. But I am going to push you tonight.” His grip tightens, and Fjord gasps at the shock of pain. “I am going to put you through your paces and wind you up until you forget your own name. I’m going to make you beg.”

Fjord shivers and whines, working his tongue against the phallus, his cock twitching between his thighs at the dark promise in Caleb’s voice.

“Does that sound acceptable?” Caleb asks, desire burning in his bright eyes.

Fjord hums once, nodding.

With a low groan, Caleb pulls him forward, fisting a hand in Fjord’s hair and pressing his lips to the gag. Caught between a gasp and a keen, Fjord closes his eyes and melts into Caleb’s grasp. He can’t even feel Caleb’s lips against his, but the kiss still hooks into his gut, fierce and possessive. 

When Caleb breaks the kiss, his lips and cheeks are rosy, and he grins deviously. He eases Fjord back into his seat, standing smoothly and trailing his hand over the gag as he steps around Fjord and disappears from view.

For a moment, Fjord sits stock-still, straining to hear what Caleb is doing, but he can’t catch the slightest footfall. Settling back in the chair, he squirms, testing the ropes coiled tight around him. He doesn’t look at the camera, but its gaze weighs heavily on him, recording his every twitch and whimper. Heat swells in his stomach at the thought, but he pushes it to the side. Now is not the time for that kind of introspection.

When a slick hand skims over his shoulders, he yelps, the noise muffled by the gag. “Shh,” Caleb says against the shell of his ear. “Patience, _Bärchen._ I will make you feel good, but you must keep still.” He punctuates the command by nibbling at Fjord’s earlobe.

Groaning, Fjord bobs his head and sucks in a deep breath. Calm. He can be calm. Exhaling through his nose, he drops back into the seat, laving the gag to distract himself. 

Once he goes still, Caleb slides his splayed hands down Fjord’s chest, smearing oil as he goes. Humming as he works, Caleb circles Fjord’s nipples with teasing fingers, rakes his nails over Fjord’s abs, trails his fingertips up Fjord’s sides. Fjord drops his head back onto Caleb’s shoulder, sucking back a groan. Fuck, they’ve barely started, and already his skin feels too tight around him and hypersensitive to the touch. When Caleb rolls a thumb across his nipples, Fjord arches into the touch; he wins a split-second of delicious pressure before Caleb tuts and pulls his hands away. “So sensitive already, _Bärchen_? Oh, this must be so frustrating. The promise of so much pleasure--" Just as he pauses, Caleb slaps his pecs thrice in quick succession, pinches both nipples, and _twists._ "--But it is always just beyond your grasp."

He cries out behind the gag, his dick heavy and leaking against his thigh. Caleb releases the pressure, circling the sensitive buds to soothe away the pain but stopping before Fjord can get any real satisfaction. Fingertips dance across his skin, making him gasp when they glide across particularly sensitive patches of skin, working methodically down his torso. Sucking hard at the gag, Fjord forces himself to relax against the chair, relishing every small sensation and waiting for the next. 

Down, down, down, Caleb’s fingers wander, brushing through his treasure trail, skimming over his hipbones, but instead of wrapping around Fjord’s cock and squeezing at his knot, Caleb bypasses it and palms his balls, kneading gently. “Knees wider,” Caleb says, his free hand pinning Fjord in place by the hip. “Show off your lovely cock and tight, little hole.” 

His face burns, the camera's focus like a leaden weight on his shoulders, but Fjord keeps softly, spreads his knees wider, and arching his hips outward. He can only imagine how he looks right now: flush with arousal, skin glistening with oil, the heavy muzzle strapped across his face, a damn jeweled plug nestled deep inside him, his cock hard and drooling in anticipation. Just thinking about it makes him squeeze his eyes shut and turn his head to the side. Like that might somehow blot out such a provocative image.

Caleb chuckles darkly, releasing his balls and wrapping his hand up under Fjord’s jaw, close enough he can smell himself. Hands firm, Caleb turns him to face forward. “No hiding, Fjord. You’re the star of this show. You wouldn’t deny the birthday boy his treat, now would you?”

_You picked the gag, knowing full well this moment would come. No use lollygagging around._ Still, knowing something will happen and accepting it are two very different things. Fjord whimpers around the gag and shakes his head fervently.

“_Nein_, I thought not.” Caleb moves the hand at Fjord’s hip inward, the pad of his forefinger tracing just inches away from Fjord’s knot. “Color, _Bärchen_.”

Fjord hums once, trembling as he wills his hips to stay still. He has to stay still even though with one small shift, he’d have Caleb’s hands on him. Gods, he wants that so badly, but he can only whine and suck at the pecker gag to keep himself sane.

“Then why don’t you open your eyes for us?” Caleb asks so sweetly, breath warm against Fjord’s neck and sending shivers down his spine. 

Tensing, Fjord squeezes his eyes shut tighter.

Caleb presses another kiss to the gag, slowly circling Fjord’s knot. “Or is it too shameful to consider? You come to us so willing, so pliant, but always, you shy away when we try to show you how ravishing you are. Can you only accept so much evidence of your desires before you cannot bare anymore?”

Whimpering, Fjord struggles against Caleb’s grip, trying to tuck his chin to his chest and hide, but those large, lovely hands don’t give him an inch. He thrashes, squirms, but he can’t shake Caleb. 

_Not that you want to._

Before he can think, Caleb cups a hand over Fjord’s cock, slick and warm and rough against his head for just a moment before withdrawing. Fjord cranes after him, moaning. 

“Do you like that, _Bärchen_?” Caleb asks, knowing full well Fjord would kill for another touch. Would give his last inch of freedom for Caleb and Molly to call him “theirs.” 

Huffing, Fjord lets out a single long hum. 

“I thought you might,” Caleb says, his finger making that slow, teasing circuit. “Open your eyes, and I’ll touch you the way you want me to.”

He knows it’s a trick, knows the game they’re playing for Molly’s entertainment, knows Caleb will yank the rug out from under him and will laugh while he does it, but the needy, desperate part of his mind sings out. Screams for relief. For release. 

With a shaky breath and a steadying gulp, Fjord blinks, sees the little red light on the camera and beyond that, their mirror propped up against the wall. He skips past his ruddy-faced, splay-legged reflection and finds Caleb’s eyes fixed on him, a half-surprised grin on his lips. He meets Caleb’s gaze, pleading despite the gag stuffed in his mouth, hoping that even a fraction of his need come across. 

Caleb gasps and bites his neck, the shock of pain a balm to his feverish need. When Caleb pulls away, his cheeks are red and his eyes are wide and dark with want. “My, what pretty eyes you have,” Caleb whispers.

Before Fjord can so much as roll his eyes, Caleb takes him in hand, grip firm as he spreads Fjord’s precome down his length, each stroke slow and purposeful and with just the right amount of friction. Gasping with want, Fjord falls back against the chair, against Caleb, his hips shaking as he strains to hold still, but it’s overwhelming. The steadiness of Caleb’s hands, his warmth against Fjord’s back, the gut-wrenching twist he working over Fjord’s head on each upstroke. His eyelids flutter with each stroke, his knot swelling. 

Fuck, he shouldn’t be so close from just some light teasing and carefully crafted turns of phrase, but here he is, clinging to the shreds of his control. Caleb just inspires him to new heights, and oh, he flies higher and higher, need burning in his veins. Caleb bites another mark into his neck, and all Fjord can do is writhe and suckle at the gag and enjoy all the pleasure Caleb drags out of him. Within minutes, Fjord lurches forward, hips bucking into Caleb’s fist, chasing bliss along a knife’s edge, unafraid of the fall.

Which is precisely when Caleb tightens his grip, pumps him two more times, and releases him.

No more gliding friction. No more tight-wound heat. No nothing.

Fjord cries out around the gag, thrusting into nothing as his knot swells and his seed dribbles out of him and his desire goes unquenched. Release without relief. He lurches forward, begging around the gag for the slightest touch, but his cock pulses again and again, his arousal still mounting. Whimpering, he throws his head back far enough to catch Caleb’s eye. But Caleb offers no quarter, a knowing grin warming at his cheeks as he waits. 

And waits.

And waits.

Until Fjord’s chest stops heaving and his mind comes back down to earth. The tension still skitters under his skin, but it’s calmed. Settled. Caleb grins a little wider and in the blink of an eye takes Fjord back in hand, palming his cockhead in strong, unrelenting strokes.

Were it not for the bonds tethering him to the chair, Fjord would bolt out of the chair, squirming away from the too-bold, too-bright pleasure. But with Caleb wrapped around him and the ropes pinning him in place, he can’t find an inch of leeway. Can only howl around the gag and tense against the assault and wait until Caleb is satisfied.

And just as his need spikes again, Caleb takes his hand away, his fingers dragging through the come on his stomach and rubbing it into his skin. Fjord shakes hard, tears blurring his vision, keening quietly. Caleb kisses the shell of his ear and whispers just loud enough for the camera to pick up, “Let’s see how many we can wring out of you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Questions, comments, and concrit always welcome! Thank you for reading!


End file.
